


The Soldier and The Diplomat

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Developing Relationship, Greg Lestrade to the Rescue, M/M, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Top secret soldier Greg Lestrade needs to rescue Mycroft Holmes
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 30
Kudos: 206
Collections: JustMystradeThoughts Plot Bunny Adoptions





	The Soldier and The Diplomat

Technically, Greg Lestrade didn't exist. He was a ghost, a shadow, a hunter. Many years ago his talents had been noticed and he'd been quietly removed from the army and set onto another path. Now, today, he stood in a nondescript office in a nondescript building, listening to a man in a suit speak to him as he stood at the window and looked out at a city that had no idea of the things he'd done.

"Holmes is one of our best," said the man. "And it's absolutely vital that we get him back in one piece."

It was always vital. Whatever they asked of him, it was a matter of national importance. Or else they'd ask someone else. "I understand, Mister Smith," said Greg, turning from the window and giving him a shark's smile, one that made Smith unconsciously adjust his tie.

"I have the information here," Smith said, clearing his throat and offering a folder. "The flight leaves at 2315."

"I'll be there," said Greg, turning away from the man again and opening the folder.

Smith stood there a moment longer, then he quickly gathered his things and let himself out.

Greg looked at the picture. He'd heard of Holmes, actually, had seen his name on a few things that had passed his way over the years. He was far more important than anyone liked to admit, but Greg knew an equal when he encountered one, even if they'd never spoken in person. The folder contained a plane ticket and all the documents he'd need to legally enter the country under an assumed name. After that he'd gear up at a safe house and go collect Holmes. It was delicate, of course, and if anything went wrong then he didn't exist, but that was also normal.

Tucking everything away, Greg left the building by a different door than the one he'd come in. He walked a few blocks to his car and headed home, taking a circuitous route by long habit, before pulling up to a block of ordinary flats. Even top secret government assets needed a place to sleep. As far as his neighbors knew, he had a job where he traveled a lot, but they were vague on the specifics.

Greg unlocked the door and let himself in, checking his security as a small grey cat wound his way around his ankles. Once he was certain everything was safe he picked up the cat, Roger, and pet him gently. "You'll be staying with Phil again for a bit. I know that's twice this month, but you know how these things go."

The cat mewed in what Greg liked to think was an understanding way. Greg put food in his bowl and fixed his own dinner. He memorized the rest of the folder’s contents as he ate. Finally, he put the travel documents on the table near the door and then shredded the rest before burning it. 

Roger stayed close by as Greg packed a small suitcase with some typical tourist clothes. Once that was finished, he took a last look around the apartment again before picking up Roger and carrying him two doors down the hall. Phil was a police officer, the sort of job that Greg might have taken in another life. He was trustworthy enough and Roger seemed to like him, so Greg usually called on him for last minute pet sitting.

The door opened and Phil gave Roger a warm smile before looking back at Greg. "Need to go out of town again?"

"Afraid so. Flying out tonight. Not sure when I'll get back."

"It's fine. You know we don't mind." Phil took the cat, petting him gently.

"I appreciate it." Greg gave Roger a final pat. "I'll pay you when I get back?"

"Like usual. It’s no problem," said Phil. "Have a good flight."

"Thank you."

Greg let Phil take Roger into his flat. It was probably not a smart idea to have the cat anyway, but, well, the cat had chosen him and it was nice to have someone to come home to, even if he shed.

Back in his flat, Greg double-checked his security before locking the door and heading to the airport. Just a few hours from now, his life would be a lot less comfortable.

**

The airport and the rest of his travel went off without a hitch. Greg took a cab to a building a few blocks from the safe house, then made his way there on foot. Unlocking a secret closet in the flat, he took out the weapons he'd be using and changed into clothes better for hiding in the woods. It didn't seem that Holmes was under particularly heavy guard, but that information was also hours old by now. If he was very, very lucky, they had no idea who they had in their possession.

Once he was ready, Greg set the security and went below the building, taking out a motorbike. He adjusted the pack on his back, checked that his weapons were all in easy reach, then headed out of the city and into the surrounding mountains.

He stopped just outside of a small village, carefully hiding the motorbike out of view of the road, then took off into the old forest. It wasn't the easiest going, but Greg had plenty of experience at moving across inhospitable, dangerous places. The weather was cold and cloudy when he caught a glimpse of the sky. Might even snow later. That could be good for their escape.

He heard the enemy before he saw them. Not professionals, clearly. He smiled in the gathering darkness and moved closer, finding a cluster of buildings huddled next to a creek. He could take a guess at what they were manufacturing and sending down that creek to the river, but that wasn't his job. Get in, get Holmes, get out.

He settled down to observe. A few dozen men, most of them working out of two of the buildings. The middle building looked to be the most heavily guarded, but that could be a decoy or the location of the boss. 

Lights came on as night fell. Even better; they wouldn't be able to see much outside of the light. He carefully circled around the buildings, moving nearly silently, observing the guards. They were relaxed, assuming their remote location would keep them safe. And perhaps it would have from ordinary soldiers or police. But Greg wasn't ordinary.

He moved quickly, crossing the space from the tree line to the back of the buildings. He felt the adrenaline flow into his veins and took a few deep breaths, drawing his weapon. He moved to the middle building, glad to find a small back door. He listened a moment, then pulled it open, sweeping the room with his gun. It was probably a kitchen at some point in the recent past, now empty.

This was starting to feel a little too easy. Greg crossed the room and listened at the next door. This time he did hear voices, one of them angry and rising, followed by the heavy sound of a punch.

Easy was over. Greg shoved the door open, startling four men standing in a circle around a fifth, bound to a chair. At least that made it simple to figure out which one was the hostage. Greg fired and the first two dropped quickly, the third barely got his gun out. The fourth managed to shout and fire, missing wildly before he was dispatched.

Holmes had a black eye, but otherwise seemed unharmed. Greg quickly crossed behind him, cutting the zip ties with a knife and pulling him to his feet. He pushed him towards the back door, only to see the shadow of someone in the doorway. 

Greg shoved Holmes down a second before the shadow fired, his ears ringing with the loud gunfire in a small place. Without hesitation Greg fired in return, the man stumbling back into the darkness.

There was more shouting. Greg knew it was now or never. He yanked Holmes up and shoved him towards the open door. "Tree line," he hissed.

Fortunately, Holmes didn't hesitate, quickly crossing the open space and crashing into the forest. Lord save him from loud civilians. Greg gave him a few steps headstart, then hurried after him, gunfire breaking out as soon as he was in the open.

He felt one of the bullets graze him, but didn't slow down, nearly stumbling over Holmes in the underbrush.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, wondering why Holmes had stopped.

Holmes shook his head. "Do you have a spare gun?" he asked.

Usually, he wouldn't give a civilian a weapon, but something about Holmes told him the man knew what he was doing. He took his spare pistol from his hip and put it in Holmes's hand. "Come on. Don't fire it unless you have to."

The enemy was crashing into the woods, clearly searching for them. Greg led the way out and then back towards the camp, splashing across the icy creek just outside the circle of lights. Holmes kept his silence, matching him nearly step for step as they headed into the dark woods.

There were a few gunshots, but they quickly faded into the distance as they moved through the forest. They headed up a ridge. Greg had a map of the area, but he'd also memorized quite a bit too, and if he was right... yes, there. They crossed over the ridge and went a short ways down the other side, finding a small hunting cabin. Greg got the door, quickly checking to make sure it was empty, then gestured Holmes inside.

Holmes was shivering. Greg moved to the small fireplace at one end and quickly got a fire going. He hopped up again and went outside, making sure the shutters were closed and that no light would give away their location. It was starting to snow in earnest now, which would at least help cover their tracks.

Satisfied, he stepped back into the cabin and took off his pack, wincing at the movement. Right, his arm. Holmes caught his reaction from his place by the fire. "Are you injured?"

"Just a graze," said Greg, setting down the bag and his gun before shrugging out of his coat. He carefully peeled off his shirt and looked at the wound. 

"I can clean that for you," said Holmes, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked at Greg.

"Sure," said Greg, sitting down and opening the bag, taking out a small first aid kit and handing it to Holmes.

"Thank you," he said. "And for the rescue."

"We're not out of the woods yet. Literally," said Greg. "But you're welcome, Mister Holmes."

"Call me Mycroft," he said, opening the kit and getting to work.

"Greg," said Greg.

"I know who you are. I suppose they felt a need to send the best after me."

Greg tamped down an odd surge of pride. He knew he was good at his job, no need to get cocky about it. "I've seen your name a time or two, as well," he said instead.

Mycroft smiled. "So we both know a little more about each other than perhaps we should."

"If that snow piles up we might end up getting to know each other even better," said Greg.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him, then returned his attention to his work.

Greg closed his eyes, letting Mycroft finish bandaging him up. "There you go. Nothing major," said Mycroft

"Good," said Greg, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He took out a map of the area and laid it on the floor. "We're here," he said, pointing. "The camp is here and the city is here. My bike is parked just outside this village."

"Not a terrible walk, at least when the woods aren't crawling with soldiers."

"And a foot of snow," said Greg. "We may be here for a few days."

He got to his feet and opened up some cabinets along one wall of the cabin. "There's enough food here for a week, two if we stretch it, though I doubt it'll take that long."

"Can we be extracted from here?" asked Mycroft.

"Mountains are too steep for landing. If one of us was seriously hurt we could use the satellite phone, but I'd rather not risk it as long as we're capable of walking out on our own."

"Makes sense," said Mycroft. 

"You're the diplomat, not me, but I know our situation in this country is tenuous and we'd rather avoid an international incident." Greg found some blankets and pulled them out, putting one across Mycroft's shoulders before sitting down himself. "Come on, we should try to get a little sleep. We'll see how bad the snow is in the morning."

"If you insist," said Mycroft, pulling the blanket a little tighter around himself.

"I do," said Greg, laying down on the hard floor. "It's not the Ritz but I'm sure you can make do."

"Yes."

**

Greg woke all at once to an unfamiliar noise. It took him a moment to realize Mycroft was having a bad dream. He moved closer to the man, touching his shoulder. "Hey, you're safe," he said quietly.

Mycroft sat up so quickly he nearly headbutted Greg. "Apologies," he said, turning.

"I've got fast instincts, you're alright," smiled Greg.

Mycroft scrubbed his face in his hands, shivering. "I'm sure I'll be fine once we're off this mountain."

"Back in your own bed? Yeah, but no shame in having bad dreams. You did just get kidnapped."

Mycroft gave him a weak smile. "You make a good point. Good thing you rescued me."

"Anytime," said Greg. He lay back down. "Here, if you want to lay closer to me, that's fine. Usually I only have my cat around when I have bad dreams."

"A cat?" asked Mycroft, scooting closer.

"His name is Roger. How about you? Anyone waiting at home?"

Mycroft laughed. "Not hardly. Feline or otherwise. Is someone watching Roger now?"

"A neighbor," said Greg. "He's a good cat. Understands I need to leave him sometimes."

Mycroft didn't respond and Greg thought he'd fallen asleep, but then he spoke again. "It does get lonely sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," admitted Greg. 

"I understand," said Mycroft.

Greg put an arm around him. It just felt right to do so. "I think you do."

**

Greg woke again in the morning to Mycroft tucked against his chest. He looked down at him, running fingers through his hair. This was a bad idea, starting any kind of relationship with a rescue, but for once in his life he wanted to give in. The truth was he was tired. He'd been thinking more and more about retirement, about slipping into some banal, ordinary job.

Mycroft stirred under Greg's touch. He shifted, opened his eyes and was very still as he took in his surroundings. Then he raised his head and looked into Greg's eyes. 

Reaching up to cup his cheek, Greg guided Mycroft into a kiss.

Mycroft moaned softly, kissing him back. It felt like a safe harbor, as if he could lay down all his troubles here. 

Without speaking, Mycroft reached to undo his buttons. Greg gently pushed his hand aside and did it for him, stripping Mycroft bare with gentle care, then pushing down his own bottoms.

Mycroft looked him over, running his hands along Greg's strong arms, keen eyes taking in all the scars and marks of a life hard lived and hard earned.

For his part, Greg took in the soft lines of Mycroft's body, one spent more behind a desk. Only a few bruises showed his recent ordeal. A constellation of freckles sprawled across his skin, a galaxy Greg would gladly lose himself in.

Greg kissed Mycroft again, gentle and desperate all at once Mycroft cupped his face, taking control. Greg sighed and relaxed, letting Mycroft roll him onto his back, straddling his hips and settling over him.

Mycroft picked up Greg's hand and Greg almost forgot how to breathe as Mycroft rubbed his cheek against it. Then Mycroft leaned down to kiss him, reaching back to take Greg in hand and guide him inside.

Greg groaned softly as Mycroft bore down, clearly knowing just what he wanted. Greg cupped Mycroft's hips, supporting him, watching him with wonder in his gaze.

Mycroft opened his eyes and smiled at Greg as he started to move. Greg smiled back. It felt good to let Mycroft lead the way, to support him, to watch microexpressions of pleasure wash across his face.

Greg's eyes fell closed as Mycroft squeezed around him. He leaned down to kiss Greg again. "Fuck me."

Groaning, Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist and rolled them over, thrusting deep, taking him hard. Mycroft's blunt nails dragged along his back. Greg panted against Mycroft's shoulder, working a hand between them, to grasp Mycroft's cock, needing to feel him come.

Mycroft moaned softly and spilled over his hand. A few more thrusts and Greg was following him over, worrying the flesh of his shoulder in his teeth to muffle his shout.

They breathed heavily, loud in the quiet cabin. Mycroft ran his slender fingers through Greg's hair. Greg carefully pulled out and gathered Mycroft in his arms, satisfied in a way he'd never known was possible.

**

Two weeks later life had resumed its normal shape. Well, sort of. Greg had returned Mycroft safely to London, but he was restless. Even Roger seemed to notice, being more affectionate than usual. Quietly, Greg had started making plans for retirement, putting a few things into place to ensure that he'd have a smooth exit.

Today was the last step. He looked up at the building and stepped inside, quickly finding himself escorted to an office.

Mycroft looked up at him, something mischievous in his eyes. "I understand you're leaving us," he said.

"Yes, sir. A quiet retirement, that's all I want."

Mycroft nodded and slid some papers across the desk. "With this, you again exist. You'll find twenty years of job history and references here, if you decide to work." Mycroft hesitated. "Or, I have another offer for you."

Greg folded his arms, feeling slightly off balance. "Yes?"

"It seems those higher up than me would like me to have some sort of full-time security," said Mycroft, looking at his nails, then back up at Greg, a smile just threatening to break through. "Perhaps someone that stays at my home and accompanies me when I go out of the country. I don't mind cats."

Greg couldn't help but smile back at him. "I suspect you'd spoil a cat rotten." He stepped closer to Mycroft. "And what if I wanted to protect your body more... personally?"

Mycroft leaned towards him. "I'd rather hoped you would."

Greg leaned down and kissed Mycroft. "When can I start?"

**Author's Note:**

> There was discussion on twitter about Air Force One is Down. Rupert looks like [this](https://gravesdiggers.tumblr.com/post/28113689400/rupert-graves-as-dragutin-in-air-force-one-is) in that movie. Paia suggested a rescue plot bunny and I ran with it.
> 
> You can find me on twitter @merindab


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